


The Dubious Observations of Durwin of Noblecourt, Aged 41.

by Seasonal



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, I wonder if the innkeepers all go drinking sometime and share octopath stories, Noblecourt will never be bored, or pick fights with townspeople, really don't steal from kids, spoilers for primrose's chapter 3, what happens when you steal from children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 20:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20020720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasonal/pseuds/Seasonal
Summary: An innkeeper in Noblecourt witnesses just what eight travelers can get up to during the course of their stay.





	The Dubious Observations of Durwin of Noblecourt, Aged 41.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nebulariffic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulariffic/gifts).



> I hope you like this, Nebulariffic! You had so many good ideas, but in the end, this one appealed to me the most. I had a lot of fun writing this, thanks so much for giving me the opportunity!

Durwin had seen many a traveler step, stalk, stumble, and stride across the threshold into his inn. As its keeper, he knew better than to ask for their stories, content merely to let them pay for their lodgings for the night (or week) and grant them a private and safe shelter to rest before they inevitably moved on.

But though he never _asked_ , tales and rumors still reached his ears. Noblecourt had become more prone to said rumors after the house of Azelhart had fallen and the speculation had continued with a voracity that had yet to truly die down, even a good ten years later. Durwin thought it best to keep his head down, but when a motley group of eight travelers paid a week's worth of leaves to stay in his inn, he couldn't entirely leave them unnoticed.

Not when they were so thoroughly determined to cause no small amount of trouble, as he soon found it.

Some of it was harmless-- endearing, even. The golden-haired Sister was gentle with everyone she met, to the point where several children came to the inn on a daily basis to clamor for her to play with them. The affable apothecary had, apparently, made friends with half the town before long, and he and his huntress companion (alarmingly large cat included) had gotten into quite the lively conversation with another traveler regarding weapons fashioned from whatever the man had on hand. Durwin had overheard snatches of the conversation, consisting of "Rat King fur", "soporific spores" and "hairbrush", and had wisely moved on to help another guest. 

Several guests had even sought Durwin out to share with him the hilarity of the small merchant girl giving a severe dressing down of the town's fondly regarded Antiquarian, all because she thought his habit of trading so easily was downright atrocious and that he ought to be a bit more discerning. The scholar with her, who'd ascertained that certain damning trait in the first place by simply studying the man, had apologized for the disturbance (but had also jotted down several pages of notes "for further perusal").

And then there had been the man with the thief's bangle, who had seemingly yet to learn his lesson. Not only had he plucked a bow right from the hands of an elderly man - one the good sir had been so proud to easily wield, at that - but he'd made several diligent attempts to swipe a bracelet from a small child, in _full view_ of his watchful mother.

 _That_ particular bit of news had been helpfully delivered to him by many eager citizens, when he'd stepped outside to witness a throng surrounding the rather irate - and now knife-wielding mother - and the broad-shouldered man with the equally massive sword who'd decided that the best way to remedy this transgression caused by his thieving comrade was to challenge the woman to a duel.

Five minutes later, the proud warrior, now notably scuffed and breathing heavier, thanked the woman for such an honorable fight and frowned meaningfully in the direction of the scowling thief until the younger man reluctantly lowered his head and muttered an apology.

It was, Durwin reflected as the crowd dispersed, a very strange group that had come to Noblecourt-- and not for the first time, at that, but things had certainly _felt_ quieter at the time. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what had brought all of them together. Differing moralities, motivations... perhaps it was some matter of inexplicably mutual convenience? A group like that... he couldn't really envision them possessing the strong ties seen with most traveling groups or duos he'd encountered.

It was the following night, however, that he found himself proven wrong.

What had been a dull evening at the counter was abruptly broken by several things at once-- muffled, panicked conversation from outside, growing louder by the second. Heavy footsteps, as if someone was running. When the door flew open, Durwin was greeted with the sight of the entire group of travelers. The woman in the dancer's garb who bore a haunting familiarity was unconscious in the warrior's arms, held protectively close, while the Sister held a staff over her blood-soaked side with her delicate features taut with worry. The huntress and her leopard were nowhere to be seen, and the thief and the scholar were gone too, but the merchant girl was anxiously arguing with the apothecary as they made a beeline for the startled innkeeper.

"Listen, Alfyn, I'll get everything we need! You and Ophilia just get her in there and start _treating_ her! I swear I don't need help carrying everything!"

"Tressa..." The apothecary (Alfyn?) pinched the bridge of his nose, though his eyes were as dark and worried as hers were. "I know you're about as stubborn as a mule in a snowstorm, but that ain't gonna make lugging a giant basin upstairs any easier! I can--"

The warrior cleared his throat, with such an unmistakable air of authority that even Durwin wanted to slam a hand to his chest and bow his head in deference. In a voice like a low rumble, he spoke.

"Alfyn, you accompany myself and Ophilia upstairs. Once I have the lady settled, I'll return here to assist Tressa in bringing up the other supplies you'll require. Then I'll meet up with Revello and H'aanit. If that... _scoundrel_ did indeed leave town, Cyrus and Therion ought to be able to provide us with other avenues of information. Is that satisfactory?"

The pair of them snapped their mouths shut in immediate unison and Alfyn hurried upstairs without another word, leaving the man and the cleric to follow. Tressa watched them leave, right before she jerked her chin back to Durwin and placed both palms decisively on the counter.

" _All right!_ I'm gonna need about two rolls of clean bandages, a few more towels, and a big basin of hot water heated up! Also probably a needle and some thread, just-- you know, to be safe! If we don't need it for _that_ , I bet Ophilia'd sew you up a really pretty embroidery that you could hang up front for any future travelers! Free of charge, and of course I'll pay for all of this too! Pleasure doing business with you?"

She said all of this with all the speed and coherency of seasoned merchants more than twice her age, the only thing giving away her desperation being that slight shakiness in her voice.

Durwin studied her for all of a few seconds, then reached out to pat her hand. "You needn't worry, young miss. Go to your friends. I'll help that man bring all of this up. Wouldn't do me any good for business if a guest suffered grievous harm during a stay here and I did nothing, now would it?"

The smile Tressa gave him was tremulous at best, but she swiftly nodded and shot up the stairs.

The rest of the night before he himself retired to bed was a long one. The others returned, grim-faced but determined. The cleric came downstairs some hours later to drink some tea with trembling fingers, until the thief joined her with a terse request for lessons on "apple bunnies". H'aanit, the huntress, offered to help pay for innkeeper's assistance by letting her leopard clear up the pest problem they'd been having in the kitchen lately, and when Durwin had thanked her fervently, he'd received a rare, faint smile. 

And, when he'd knocked on the door to the room where the injured woman slept, he found her bedside surrounded-- the apothecary, wearily checking her pulse and allowing himself a relieved sigh, the merchant in her chair, head on the bed and dead to the world, the warrior sitting bolt upright in his own chair and watching over them, and the scholar (Cyrus) nodding politely as the one who'd answered the door.

"Thank you again, my good man," Cyrus murmured as he stepped out into the hallway to speak with him. "We'll move her once she's stabilized, so as not to cause any more trouble, but you've provided immeasurable assistance that we shan't soon forget."

If he had to be honest, Durwin had questions. _Many_ questions. But he settled, instead, for one.

"You lot seem closer than I'd first believed. Have you been traveling together long?"

Cyrus shook his head with a low, rueful chuckle. "Not at all. But inexorably, we've come to understand each other more and more with each town we pass through. I must confess... it feels more than ever as though we've become something like a large, lively family."

 _Lively_ , Durin thought, was perhaps an understatement, the way they'd blown into Noblecourt and caused quite a stir, both good and bad. But...

As the thief dragged a bleary-eyed Ophilia, yawning, down the hall towards them, he also shook his head. No, Cyrus had a point. After tonight, when he looked at that group, the word _family_ would surely come to mind first.


End file.
